


Paneer, Bette Midler, and a warm handmade quilt

by Legs (InsanityRule)



Series: Spin Right Round [2]
Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: prologue to vinyl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 17:36:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4109314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanityRule/pseuds/Legs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into the foster family that introduced Jared to his love of records.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paneer, Bette Midler, and a warm handmade quilt

The first time his new foster father plays his Aretha Franklin album on the old turntable in the corner Donald quickly shuffle runs out of the living room and hides in the back of the hall closet. It’s not unpleasant but it makes him feel itchy and scared and he cannot stay in the room anymore. He’s nine and already tall and his legs hurt all the time. Still, he manages to curl up tight and small behind some long coats.

His foster mother coaxes him out at dinnertime. He’s only been here since this morning and they’ve been very nice and understanding but he just wants to go home and play his gameboy until his mother’s appointment is finished.

But it’s already been two years and he knows that isn’t going to happen.

He barely eats any dinner, even though he likes the smell of the indian food his foster mother made.

His room is small but cozy and the bed is comfortable but he can’t seem to sleep for more than an hour without having nightmares.

He doesn’t tell his foster family.

-

After a few weeks it feels okay to listen. He sits on the couch with a quilt wrapped around his shoulders, and the warm quilt helps soothe him. His foster father plays him some Ella Fitzgerald and Donald stays very quiet until the album ends.

“It was nice,” he whispers. His foster father nods.

“Why don’t you pick next?” Donald nods enthusiastically and ambles over to the case. He’s not familiar with most of the singers but he’s drawn to a Bette Midler album because of the cover. Carefully, he carries it over to his foster father, but he stands and leads Donald to the turntable. “I’ll show you.”

-

They form a bond over records. Donald’s foster father takes him to the weekly flea market where he haggles with sellers to get the best deal. It’s exciting to watch, and he helps Donald bargain even though he’s shy and gangly and self-conscious. He says Donald has a ‘knack’ for good deals.

It’s the happiest he’s been in months.

-

He’s ten and he’s taller but his legs hurt less. They eat a homemade meal every night and his foster mother makes his lunch every morning. At night he listens to an album and falls asleep on the couch, but always wakes up in his bed with a blanket tucked around his shoulders.

He’s comfortable and happy, so happy, and it can’t last forever.

He’s still ten and his foster mother is in the hospital. It’s familiar and scary and when the doctor explains her condition he can’t hear the words.

Because it doesn’t matter because it all means the same thing. It takes money, and time, and he’ll be placed in a new family by the end of the week.

He only unpacked his suitcase a week ago, finally trusting that this would last.

The social worker offers him a granola bar but he isn’t hungry. He doesn’t say a word, too afraid he’ll start crying while she gently tells him to pack up his things. He’s ten. It takes two numbers to write his age; he is too old to cry.

“Donnie,” Walter’s the only person that ever calls him that. He doesn’t think he can let the new family call him Donnie without wanting to be back here with no TV and nice food and a well cared for records on the turntable playing songs sung by pretty women with nice voices.

And there’s the authentic paneer Nayan makes every Thursday - will she still be able to cook? - and Saturdays at the flea market and falling asleep on the couch but waking up warm and safe in his bed (It’s not his bed anymore.) and he doesn’t want to leave he-

Donald’s nearly as tall as Walter but he still manages to compress himself short enough to fit with the top of his head under Walter’s chin. He’s not crying - he’s definitely crying - he just wants to stay.

He pats Donald’s back while Donald wipes his eyes with the ends of his sleeves. Walter hands him a slip of paper with his name and phone number.

“Call whenever you need to.”

-

He’s at the center for two days before he’s placed in a new home. Donald doesn’t sleep at all; he doesn’t know how to fall asleep without music anymore.

The new home is loud and full and he’s much older than most of the other children. He’s stressed and upset - one of the toddlers tries to chew on the records Walter gave him - and he’s on a top bunk that’s much too short for his lanky frame.

They don’t have a turntable.

Donald does his best to hide his disappointment.

It’s late but he wants to call Walter, just to talk a bit, to see how Nayan is doing.

He digs through his suitcase for ten minutes but the paper is nowhere to be found.

Donald doesn’t sleep again that night.

-

He’s sixteen and his hair is growing out fast after being shaved off. Donald’s at the center, in between families again, but he’s feeling okay because this year he began tutoring Economics students. He saved enough money to buy a cheap travel turntable.

He knows it may bother the others but he’s tired and stressed and he knows he’ll sleep better with the music.

He pulls out the Bette Midler and a scrap of paper falls to the floor.

-

He waits until morning to call.

“Hello, Walter? It’s Don- Oh, I’m sorry. Did he leave a number?” Donald scribbles a number on his hand. “Thank you.”

“Is this Walter? Oh, my apologies, did he move? Ah, Florida. Thank you so much.”

He lies down on his bed. “Hello I was told a Walter-” He sits up. “Is he okay?” Donald starts picking at the edge of his blanket. “I see… can I request his contact information? Donald. Yes, he may remember- oh.” He curls up tight in the corner on his bed. “Um, thank you for your help.”

He uses the communal computer to research Alzheimer’s for hours.

-

He’s seventeen and he returns to the flea market Walter always brought him to on Saturdays.

He has a junker car and his travel turntable and now, thanks to twenty dollars and his haggling skills, five new albums on vinyl.

He drives all night and part of the next day until he reaches Florida.

It’s summer and it’s hot. He’s newly graduated and he hasn’t spent any money he’s earned tutoring so he could take this trip.

The nurses are very helpful and they let him bring in his turntable. He walks down the hall and there’s Walter, sitting in an armchair in a tiny room of a very nice nursing home. “Hello Walter, I don’t know if you remember me.”

Donald hums and sets up his turntable. “I got a new album of Aretha today.” He carefully places the album on the turntable and places the needle. “Not many people bring records out anymore.”

He settles in on the loveseat and wraps himself up in the quilt he found on the back. The album begins and sound fills the room.

“Always loved her voice Donnie.”

Donald smiles and settles in to listen.


End file.
